Dumpling
by pink.chocolaTe.polikjum
Summary: Over the course of their relationship, Draco notices (and likes) the changes his Harry goes through. -Rated M. Warnings: EWE. Slash. Mpreg. Chubby-hubby lovin' Draco. Body-image issues.
1. What is a taco, Harry?

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature language and content. _

_So, lots of random bits here but I don't think it counts as drabbles; just random bits but they do flow into a story... of sorts. It started as a small idea: Draco would discover himself to be a chubby-hubby lover when Harry starts to put on a little weight. It's a quite natural occurrence as one ages or after childbirth. It's nice to read about rippled abs, perky bubble butts and rock hard thighs, but I guess I just wanted a bit more realism this time. Heh.  
_(_The image of Draco happily giving up most of his share of dumplings to Harry is the reason for the title, BTW.)_

_Overall warnings: EWE. MalexMale slash. Smut. Mpreg. Chubby-hubby lovin' Draco. Inappropriate food use. Body-image issues.  
_

_Enjoy! :))_

* * *

"What the hell is _that_?" Draco asks, pointing at the thing currently disappearing into Harry's mouth. He stares, unable to look away, when Harry's tongue darts out and cleans the corner of his mouth. The creamy white substance has his imagination plummet into the gutter and going in over-drive rather quickly and he shuffles closer.

Harry pulls the remaining bit of taco back for a moment, stares at it and gives Draco a very pointed, very plain '_you're quite the idiot'_ look. "It's a taco," he says flatly, eating the rest in one bite.

"What, pray tell, is a _taco_?" Draco asks, watching as Harry licks his fingers of cheese bits and grease. And more creamy white stuff. Not that he really cares what a taco is. It looks revolting, regardless if Harry's near sex-like moans indicate otherwise. His Harry always did have an odd taste in cuisine.

Harry rolls his eyes and unwraps another taco. "A yummy food product consisting of ground beef, cheese, sour cream and lettuce all cradled in a delicious, crunchy tortilla shell," he says and bites into another taco with a soft, happy hum. "What did you want, anyway?" he asks, mouth half-full and bulging on one side like a hoarding rodent. Normally, he keeps his sporadic 'disgusting Muggle-like eating habits' out of their living room but Draco had texted him earlier. It sounded important enough he came straight home after picking up his 'disgusting Muggle slop' for lunch. It had to have been important to have Draco using the Muggle cell-phone in the first place.

"Ugh," Draco mutters and wrinkles his nose. "That's... dreadful," he comments, looking pointedly at the rapidly disappearing 'food' item. He crosses his arms over his chest and shifts so he's standing a bit taller. "I wanted to ask why you quit the Auror training program."

Harry pauses mid-chew and tries not to choke. How could he forget Draco works at the Ministry too and would've been one of the first to hear the juicy gossip? He swallows with a grimace and washes everything down with several long sips of his soda, ignoring Draco's disgusted grimace again. "What? Don't make that face until you've tried it," he chides. He offers the blonde a wrapped taco and grins, waving it a bit when Draco glares at him. "It's good, I swear!" he says, watching Draco fold himself gracefully into a chair.

"I don't like Muggle quick food," Draco says slowly, a hint of a sneer on his face. He hasn't tried it and he won't. It doesn't look edible and he can't understand how Harry can stomach it. "And don't change the subject." He leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on the chair arms and clasping his hands together, his expression softening. He _knows_ why Harry quit; he hated the Auror program and loathed the very idea of dashing about like some Muggle super hero. Though, Harry would look positively edible in tights and a cape...

Harry lets the taco fall from his fingers onto the paper spread out on the table and sighs. "I hate it." He looks at Draco earnestly and isn't all that surprised to see understanding. "I gave it an honest go, since everyone wanted me to. But I just couldn't stand another day. I had to either quit or go insane," he says leveling one hand and then the other, as if weighing each option.

"I know," Draco says and slides off the chair to scoot across the floor to sit next to Harry. He chuckles when Harry gives him a wide-eyed stare and wraps an arm around his narrow shoulders, pulling him close to his side. Either his calm demeanor or the fact he's willingly sitting on the floor could be the reason for Harry's shock and he isn't sure which and he stifles a chuckle. "I honestly thought you'd have quit weeks ago."

Harry sighs, happily and with relief this time, and nods. He's so glad Draco understands, ridiculously so. "I _wanted_ to. I just... I didn't want to disappoint anyone."

"That's utterly idiotic, love," Draco chides gently. He laughs with delight when Harry glares at him, his mouth pinched with annoyance. "Well, it _is_. You just can't keep living for other people. I'm extremely proud you did what _you_ wanted." He smirks and leans in close, "My little closet Slytherin." He nuzzles against Harry's neck and kisses the warm skin softly. He's more than proud Harry finally quit being the Wizarding world's welcome mat; he's ecstatic and nearly vibrating with so many emotions and wicked thoughts.

Harry chuckles and leans into Draco's side, wrapping both arms around the blonde's waist and burrowing his face into Draco's neck. "You're such a sap sometimes!" he coos, nuzzling Draco. He absently spins the golden bonding ring on his finger and smiles to himself. Sure Draco can still be a right prat, but most times he's a right softy. A real closet Hufflepuff, he muses with a stifled giggle.

"Shut up. I am not. I'm just extremely intelligent and adore you, so naturally I know what's best."

Harry giggles, unable to keep the unmanly sound in when dealing with Draco's 'pissy face'. "Uh huh," he hums, warmth fluttering in his chest. He might say otherwise, but he knows it's true. He angles his head enough to press his lips to the soft skin on Draco's pale throat. "Know what else I want?" he murmurs.

"What?" Draco asks, already feeling heat pool in his belly and groin. He turns his head slightly, willingly giving Harry free access to his neck and jaw, groaning softly when teeth nip gently. He immediately grabs a hold of Harry's hips when the man moves and straddles his lap. He loves when Harry's wants and his align perfectly. He arches up into Harry when fingers slide under his shirt and flutter along his slides and nipples. "Wait a second..."

Harry pulls back. "What?" he asks, trying not to wriggle or arch into Draco and demanding they talk later. If Draco is interrupting what's clearly leading to sex, it must be important. He sighs, settling on Draco's thighs and giving his blonde his full attention.

"What do you want to do?" Draco asks, after a moment of gathering his thoughts back. Merlin, one sexy little wriggle and moan from Harry and his brain goes on vacation. He grins when Harry pulls back even more and blinks owlishly at him.

"I don't know." Harry says honestly, realizing after a moment Draco is speaking career-wise. He hasn't thought about it. He just knew he didn't want to spend Merlin alone knew how many years chasing bad guys or doing mind-numbing paper work. He had plenty of money but he couldn't sit on his ass for long without going absolutely crazy with boredom. He shrugs, trailing a finger down Draco's still-clothed chest, grinning when he feels a nipple harden under his fingertip. He flicks it and grins at the soft gasp from Draco. "Haven't thought about it."

Draco nods and swallows, trying to focus as Harry's finger glides down his chest and hooks into his pants, fiddling with the button. "Well, whatever you want to do, do it. I don't care if you think it's silly or not," he says, nodding seriously when Harry raises an eyebrow at him. He knows Harry can be stupidly self-conscious at times. He understands it, to a degree, but he doesn't _get_ it. Harry can do anything and still, at times, he questions himself. "Breed crups for all I care," he breathes, arching up as a hand slips into his pants. He wiggles his hips when Harry's palm just lays against his growing erection, his whole body still. "What?"

"That's completely ridiculous," Harry laughs. "What do I know about crups?" He chuckles when he gets a sharp silvery glare. "I know, I know. I get your point though," he says and rolls his eyes. "I'll think about it," he promises and leans forward to kiss Draco soundly. "Can we continue?" he asks, curling his fingers slightly and stroking gently.

Draco nods, his eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck, yes. Stop and I'll hex you."

"Yes, sir," Harry mutters but doesn't stop. He vanishes the constricting pants and boxer-briefs, chuckling warmly when Draco jumps and glares at him. "Sorry," he says, not sounding it at all. He scrambles up and holds out a hand for Draco. "I don't want carpet burn," he laughs when Draco blinks up at him with a questioning expression. His laugh goes a bit breathless when Draco pops up and shoves him onto the sofa in one graceful, fluid move.

Draco grunts quietly when Harry's hands get busy, one stroking along his already flushed erection and the other trying to pull off his own clothing. He huffs and slaps Harry's hands away, quickly pulling off his t-shirt and sliding his pants down. "Really, Harry... no underwear?"

"I forgot," Harry shrugs. He had been running late this morning (which had been entirely Draco's fault -with his insistent lips and hands), and just barely had time to remember pants let alone underwear. "You're complaining?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Didn't think so," he says when Draco just glares down at him for a moment before his eyes trail his body eagerly. He twitches, trying not to wiggle and giggle when Draco's fingertips flutter against his stomach and sides. "I swear-" he starts, ending in a happy sigh when those pale, long fingers finally wrap around his cock and squeeze gently. "Ah," he huffs.

"Stop talking," Draco demands and sits up on his knees enough to give Harry room as he flips him over and straddles the backs of Harry's legs, his hands immediately seeking and kneading his ass. He grins when Harry's sputtering dissolve into moans. He shifts, sitting up a bit again so Harry can wiggle and slide until he's on his knees. He lightly slaps an ass cheek and grins again when Harry glares at him over his shoulder. "Just wanted to see..." he chuckles and runs a hand over where he slapped, rolling his eyes at bit. It isn't even pink. He soothes the area with his tongue after brief flash of inspiration. He chuckles when Harry yelps then moans quietly, dropping his face and muffling the sound in a pillow.

He decides to see how loud he can get Harry to be.

This should be fun.


	2. Are you?

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Well, in a weird quirk, I've got quite a few chapters done already, so updates should be fairly regular and frequent. Yay! __As always, I thank you all for the reviews, follows and favorites.  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Mpreg. Language._

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

Draco pauses in the kitchen doorway, his mouth hanging open in a stupid gape as he stares at Harry. "What _are_ you eating?" he asks, wrinkling his nose at the large concoction held precariously in Harry's hands. From what he sees littering the plate and poking out, he's a bit nauseated.

"A sandwich," Harry mumbles through his mouthful. He pokes a slice of pickled egg back in and raises an eyebrow at the gaping blonde. "What?" he says and takes another bite. Oh, the peanut butter and the mustard were good together. He hums happily licking a glob of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth and then his thumb.

Draco tries not to gag and looks away. "Oh Merlin," he breathes and leans heavily against the doorjamb. "I thought it was bad when Hermione lived off of those little-" he pauses and slowly turns his head back to look at Harry again, gaping stupidly again. "_Why_ are you eating that?" he asks, eyes slowly narrowing.

"'Cause I was hungry and it's good," Harry says through another bite, a clear 'duh' expression on his face as he chews. He shifts his sandwich, poking another errant ingredient back in. He doesn't want to miss any of the candied pecans. He rolls his eyes when he notices Draco's face pale dramatically. Honestly, he thought the blonde was pale before but now he looks... well, dead would be a really gross way to describe the pallor, but definitely pal_er_. "Sort some things did ya?" he asks, smirking. He was going to tell Draco the -hopefully- good news as soon as he got home but he had been starving and saw food before his blonde husband. Food won; but he had fully intended to search out Draco the second he finished his sandwich.

Draco nods dumbly and walks into the kitchen on wobbly knees, gracelessly falling into a chair next to Harry. "So, why you went to the healers this morning...?" he asks but trails off expectantly, finally able to make his voice work. Sure, he's assuming all sorts of things but he doesn't want to react and get excited until Harry confirms. _If_ he confirms. Eating bizarre -no, _disgusting_- things doesn't automatically mean a damn thing; Harry's food choices have always been suspect in his opinion.

"I felt like shit," Harry says flatly and rolls his eyes. He sets his sandwich down, trying not to stare at it longingly when he pushes it out of Draco's line of sight and licks his fingers. "You know that." He grins when Draco gives him a flat look. "Oh, fine. Be that way. I didn't believe you when you said that I could be pregnant but the healer confirmed it. So, after a bit of a private freak out, ta-da! We're gonna have a baby," he says, throwing his arms out and watching Draco carefully, his intense gaze belying his carefree words.

Sure, he had laughed his ass off when Draco said he could be pregnant; they were always careful, so it was unlikely. He only went to the healer because he was tired of vomiting all the time and hating the smell of his shampoo all of a sudden. Allergies was his brilliant idea -and he just wanted the healer to agree with him and not Draco. Well, he was wrong and Draco was right. Not that he isn't happy about it but... well, it's unexpected.

"Love?" he asks, reaching out tentatively and placing a hand on Draco's arm, wiggling it a bit to get the blonde's attention. The blank staring is starting to freak him out a little...

Draco blinks furiously and leans forward, his eyes flicking over Harry quickly before landing on his stomach. "Really? Honestly?"

"Yes, the healer confirmed." Harry says slowly, wondering if his blonde recently got wanged on the head. It's the third time he's confirmed it and he feels the urge to start going back into his 'private freak out' mode again... Draco's face is still slack and his eyes have that unfocused look he gets when he's thinking something through -thoroughly.

Draco slowly grins and leans forward, almost falling out of his chair, and wraps his arms tightly around Harry, nearly choking him. "Oh! That's..." he trails off, unable to articulate just how wonderful it really is. He pulls back and beams a happy smile at Harry, unable to do anything else. He laughs when Harry gives him a return, mostly relieved, smile. "Well, this explains the squishy tummy," he says poking the mentioned area. His smile falls when Harry's eyes tear up and he looks away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Oh hell. "I didn't mean... uh... It's not noticeable..." he trails off lamely.

Harry doesn't say anything, just pushes his sandwich further away, pushes his chair back and stands. He doesn't look when he feels Draco's hand wrap around his wrist. He sniffles quietly, hating the prickling of tears and insecurity that rushes through him. He's not looking forward to _months_ of this unstable, hormonal shit if it's going to be like _this_. "What?" he mumbles, feebly wiping under his eyes, when he feels Draco pull gently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a bad way," Draco says softly, feeling like an utter bastard for making Harry cry. He pulls gently again and smiles when Harry allows the movement and shifts closer, settling into the space between his spread knees. "Honestly," he says, running a hand over the soft area that's caused the last few moments of sadness and tears. He's been enjoying the slow changes in Harry's body, but quietly. Since quitting the Aurors, Harry didn't exactly 'let himself go' but he doesn't run around like a madman either. Harry is more... cuddly and he adores it.

He looks up at Harry and smiles tentatively, unsure what to say that won't cause another rush of tears. He's had little experience with pregnancy hormones and he's mostly done a shit job of keeping his head. He made Hermione cry nearly every time she visited when she was pregnant with her first child. It was horrible and even not talking to the witch didn't help; she still had cried, convinced Draco hated her again and was avoiding her.

Harry wipes his eyes again, finally feeling a bit more in control of himself. He looks at the top of Draco's head, embarrassed for being such a weepy git. "Alright," he says softly, trying to believe Draco. Sure, their intimacy hasn't changed at all the past few months; if anything, Draco fondled and squeezed him _more_. Surely it isn't something as bizarre as Draco _liking_ his 'squishy tummy', though.

"Oh fine," he huffs, rolling his eyes in defeat when given large, silvery-grey, puppy eyes. He loathes the day Draco mastered that look and used it against him for the first time. It's such an un-Malfoy look, it nails him every sodding time and he's powerless to refuse. He jumps a bit and tries not to squeak when hands firmly clamp on his ass, kneading and pressing him firmly into Draco's body. His hands automatically come up to slide into Draco's hair as the blonde presses his face, firmly, into his belly.

"Can I also admit I love your ass, too?" Draco asks, peeking up at Harry through his lashes. He grins devilishly when Harry blushes and nods a little, his breathing picking up already. "I do, it's so... I don't know, squeezable," he murmurs and squeezes again, less harshly this time. He nuzzles his cheek against Harry's belly, a warm thrill going through him when he realizes there's a baby in there. He sighs and kisses Harry's stomach through his shirt.


	3. Fun with fluff

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Thank you all for the favorites, follows and reviews! I can't express how motivating it is to get each alert.  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Smut. Mpreg. Language. Inappropriate food use.  
_

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

"Are you seriously eating that?"

Harry looks up and grins, licking marshmallow fluff off of his lips and fingertips. It doesn't do a damn thing and he resorts to scraping at it with his teeth as well as licking at it, working the sticky stuff off in a slow progress that's quite enjoyable. "Yeah, it's not gross," he defends and continues enjoying his peanut butter and fluff sandwich. He could kiss Hermione's mum for introducing him to the combination. He hums softly as he chews, his free hand resting on his small belly bulge.

"No, it's quite normal," Draco says brightly, chuckling, and sits next to Harry. "That's why I'm asking," he grins. Obviously, he's not complaining. He's seen some truly disgusting things go into his husband's mouth recently, making him wonder just what sort of baby he was growing in there. From the random cravings, he had started to think possibly some strange sea-creature/goat hybrid. He snorts when Harry elbows him and leans in close. "Can I have a bite?" he asks playfully, leaning forward expectantly, his mouth already opening.

Harry pulls his sandwich away, cradling it protectively by his chest and scowls. "No. Fuck off."

"Oh. Alright," Draco says, pulling back in surprise. He quickly shakes off the urge to count his fingers. "I was... kidding," he says slowly. A dark glare is his only response and he shifts over on the sofa, making a mental note never to try to get food away from a pregnant Harry. Ever. Again. "If I make my own, will you want another?" he asks, hoping it'll be an effective peace offering.

Harry immediately perks up, smiling. "Yeah, that'd be brilliant," he says and stuffs the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. He licks the sticky white goo off his fingers, scraping the more persistent spots with his teeth again. He pauses, noticing Draco is staring at him and what he's doing instead of getting more sandwiches. He smirks and draws his tongue slowly up his finger, moaning softly as he draws his tongue back in his mouth with a flick. The reaction is immediate; Draco groans softly, his pupils dilating. His husband is too easy at times. He snickers when Draco's eyes follow every move and shifts closer, sandwiches forgotten for the moment.

"You should get the fluff," he says lowly, eyes flicking down to Draco's crotch meaningfully. Harry snorts when Draco bolts off of the sofa and into the kitchen. The door doesn't even stop swinging before Draco is rushing out with the jar clutched tightly in his hand and he's back in his previous spot. He takes the jar with a grin and spins the top off with a flourish.

Draco watches, his breathing getting fast and shallow as Harry dips a finger into the sticky white stuff. He doesn't even care it's unhygienic when that finger slowly disappears into Harry's mouth again. "Oh, fuck," he whispers. He eagerly tracks every move Harry makes as another scoop of the sweet goo goes into Harry's mouth and he moans softly, watching as tongue and teeth work the sticky whiteness from his finger. Merlin, it's sinful and he's dying to feel Harry doing that to _him_. He holds his breath when Harry's gaze is focused solely on him, his bright green eyes occasionally flicking down to his crotch. He groans softly as three of Harry's finger disappear into his mouth, coming out clean. He watches, his eyes tracking the pink tip of a tongue as Harry licks his lips thoroughly.

His breathing speeds up and he's on the verge of squirming in his seat as he follows the lines of Harry's body as he slides off of the sofa and kneels in front of him. "Fuck," he whispers, completely turned on at the image of Harry kneeling in front of him, his cute little belly pushing out his t-shirt. He licks his own lips, his eyes drawn to way Harry's thighs look as he's kneeling there. He really wants to slide down off of the sofa and run his hands over them... but he stays put, a little more interested in what Harry is going to do.

"Pants off," Harry says softly. He nearly giggles when Draco scrambles to comply but urge to laugh dies quickly when faced with a very turned on Draco. "Hmm," he says and slowly pulls another large dollop of fluff out of the jar. He looks between the flushed cock and his finger, as if he doesn't know which to choose. He mocks an 'aha' expression and slathers the goo on Draco, dropping a large, sticky dollop right on the tip. It's a bit odd since Draco doesn't need the added flavor—he's delicious all on his own—but he's willing to try mixing flavors. He looks up when Draco hisses softly. "Alright?" he asks coyly, working the fluff on with a little difficulty. It's thick and sticky but finally glides on as it warms with Draco's heat.

Draco nods. "Yeah, just... fuck, do _some_thing," he mutters. It's not-so-surprisingly erotic to have his cock covered in the sticky substance, waiting for Harry to clean him off. Just the way Harry smeared it on, his dark eyelashes lowered alluringly as he focused, had sent hot flashes of heat through him. Liberal amounts of pre-cum are mixing with the fluff and he groans as Harry licks his lips, his face the picture of anticipation. His head drops back onto the sofa when Harry gives him a feigned coy look and nearly swallows him whole, humming with pleasure the moments his lips close around him. He lifts his head so he can watch, enjoying the look of surprised pleasure on Harry's face as he sets to cleaning him off.

Harry is methodical and thorough, his tongue swirling and lapping lazily at Draco's sticky length. He nearly grimaces, knowing he's going to be a sticky mess but not exactly caring at the moment. His hips arch up into Harry when that wicked tongue swirls around him, briefly dipping in the slit in a search for elusive sweet goo.

"Shit," he breathes, trying not to slam down Harry's throat. He groans when Harry's throat works around him, mentally cursing his husband for the skilled ministrations; Harry knows just how to drive him crazy.

Harry's eyes flutter closed when Draco's control slips and his hips start moving forcefully. He doesn't exactly hate when Draco does that, losing all sense of himself and starts to fuck his face. He shifts up to his knees and slides his hands along the outside of Draco's thighs, he rubs and digs his fingertips in –his touch meant to encourage the blonde to 'get going'. He groans, humming with pleasure again when sweetness and the unique salt-tangy, musky flavor of Draco mixes on his tongue as he rolls the flavors around in his mouth. He squirms, a bit surprised he's nearly ready to come in his pants. He relaxes his throat and eagerly prepares for Draco's thrusting.

"Oh fuck," Draco grunts, his hands fisting in Harry's hair. He should control himself better but he _can't_. Harry willingly signaled him to do what he wants and he can only let go and do it. He tries to gentle his thrusts, but the lust coiling in his belly and the expression on Harry's face makes it hard to be rational, though. He grunts once more before coming, his fingers tightening in Harry's hair unconsciously. He looks down and is a bit surprised to see Harry arching and gasping; he can tell by the way he's squirming with his eyes closed and the way his brows are slightly scrunched together he's come, too. The growing wet patch on his jeans confirms it and he grins dopily, cradling Harry's cheeks and gently raising his head off of his lap.

Harry's eyes slowly open and grins back. "You taste better without fluff," he says, his voice a bit hoarse, and smacks his lips together loudly.

"Mm," Draco hums absently. He waves a hand around until he hits Harry's shoulder and blindly reaches down to pull Harry back up onto the sofa. He settles Harry in his lap and kisses him, languidly and thoroughly, a hand twisted gently in his hair. He pulls Harry close and just spends a few moments shamelessly feeling Harry up, chuckling as Harry wiggles and laughs softly, breathlessly. Even in his lazy and pleasure-heavy-post orgasmic state, he's enjoying the warm soft feel of Harry under his hands.

His hands pause and he laughs softly. "Damn. I forgot the sandwiches."


	4. You're my dumpling, Harry

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows. When I started this story, this was the shortest chapter. Then I figured I'd add a bit to pad it and, well... here it is. It sorta went in a smutty direction, so...  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Smut. Language. Mpreg._

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

"Dumpling?"

Draco pushes the plate forward and watches Harry. He's impressed as his husband deftly pinches the remaining dumpling between his chopsticks and brings it to his mouth, biting into it with a soft hum of pleasure. He props his chin on his palm and just watches Harry enjoying his food. Honestly, it's more than a little erotic. The sounds of pleasure. The way Harry's tongue pokes out to catch stray drops of the brown sauce from the corner of his mouth and his bottom lip. Even his bright green eyes are half-lidded as he chews.

It's fucking hot; like Harry's not just eating his food, he's making love to it. It could just be his overactive imagination (and hormones), but that's how it looks to him. Especially when Harry's tongue darts out, wraps around the last bit of dumpling and he sucks it into his mouth with that arousing humming sound again.

_Fuck_.

He shifts a bit in his seat, questioning the logic of eating out when he knows how he can get watching Harry eat. It's a bit embarrassing to wrestle with a semi in the middle of a family restaurant.

"Are you going to eat that?" Harry asks, pointing to the spring roll in front of Draco. He grins when Draco shakes his head and pushes the plate towards him. He tries not to hum with glee when he pulls it apart and munches on the fried roll. It's just... so _good_. "Thanks," he says, trying not to be too gross as he speaks around the bite of spring roll. He rolls his eyes when Draco nods blankly, his slightly glazed grey eyes focused on his mouth. He doesn't get how Draco can get off watching him eat but it doesn't stop him from enjoying his food. He pats his belly, letting his hand linger a bit, feeling pleasantly full.

Thankfully, he doesn't _look_ pregnant (his belly still quite subtle) and he's happy they can still go out to Muggle restaurants for a bit yet. He's, again, eaten more than his share but it's not something he always does. He's happy to use the 'eating for two' excuse on the rare occasions he indulges.

Draco jumps a bit when their waitress comes over. He wordlessly pushes his tiny teacup towards her when she asks if he wants more. He nods a 'thanks' and takes a sip, the hot liquid distracting him for a moment. One more sexy hum, moan or groan from Harry and he'd probably do something very illegal and/or very embarrassing.

"Dessert?" he asks, setting his teacup down. He smothers a grin when Harry looks at the menu with a soft expression of longing. It's probably a little evil to ask; he knows Harry can't say no to the little fried doughnuts and is probably having a furious internal debate with himself. He knows it for a fact when he sees Harry's hands slide around his waist, stomach and down his thighs in a subconscious effort to gauge his weight. He smirks victoriously, hiding it behind his teacup, when Harry sighs with resignation. He hates the little battle but he loves to witness the result: a happy Harry, humming and moaning softly as he nibbles small pieces of fried, sugared dough.

Dammit. His semi is edging towards 'full hard-on' now. He can't regret the suggestion, though, and just plans on staying a little longer to wait out his problem.

"Yeah, why not?" Harry finally says with a resigned sigh, looking around for their waitress. He probably shouldn't indulge himself, but the little doughnuts here are so good. He looks to Draco and nearly rolls his eyes at the hot, anticipatory look on the blonde's face.

As if by apparation, she's there at their table again with a cheery smile. "One order of the doughnuts, please." He laughs when the waitress looks to Draco and shakes his head. "Nope, just for me!" he chirps, making her laugh (well, giggle in a feminine high pitch) before she bustles off. He watches the small woman disappear into the kitchen and then turns to playfully glares across the table. "Why did you say that? You know I can't resist those," he says, whining a bit. He runs his hands down his sides again, scowling when Draco notices and sends him a heated look that makes everything tingle and heat pool in all his sensitive places.

He nearly rolls his eyes again; he's married to a damn pervert. Not that he's complaining; on the contrary, it warms nearly every part of him. But he's bemused to see Draco behave like he is when they're _in public_. He's not sure when the blonde decided to throw his fine manners into the wind, apparently it's been a slow, subtle decline in decorum.

Draco shrugs. "So? It's not like we won't work it off later," he says with an exaggerated leer and another heated look that makes Harry's eyes widen a bit and squirm in his seat, his thighs and ass tingling no doubt. He chuckles when Harry's cheeks pink and he nods once, making it clear he's quite serious.

He's sure part of Harry's embarrassment comes from him saying such things in public (he can't help it, though). The other part is most likely Harry's bizarre notion he'll be turned off by his glorious body (and he's devout to continue his mission to make it quite clear through words and touch how much it isn't so). He chuckles softly, and eyes Harry with a heated look once again, his eyes flicking around to wander Harry's body. "Definitely will," he adds, nodding firmly.

He sits back and waits, eagerly anticipating the moment when Harry feels compelled to lick all of the sugar from his fingers.

* * *

Draco gently pushes Harry against the door the moment it closes. He's been practically vibrating the last 10 minutes, since Harry had thoroughly, and teasingly, licked every grain of sugar from his fingers and lips. He had to watch that tongue work Harry's slender fingers and those lips pucker as he sucked those fingers inside his mouth for a more thorough cleaning. He had to watch that tongue point and wriggle in the corner of Harry's mouth, glide across his bottom lip to get to the other side.

Dear sweet merciful Merlin, it was the best sort of torture, though.

He wraps his fingers around Harry's wrist and brings his hand to his lips. He slowly draws his tongue along Harry's index finger, sliding the digit in his mouth and wrapping his lips around it for a moment before drawing it back out. "I think you missed a bit," he murmurs, sliding his tongue back in his mouth—a hint of sweetness lingering.

"I don't think so," Harry smirks. "I was very thorough."

Draco chuckles lowly, leaning forward to press their bodies closer together. His angles his hips out just a little so he doesn't press against Harry's rounding belly too much. "Mmm, yes, you were. You little tease," he whispers, his lips brushing against Harry's.

"I'm not a tease, love. A tease doesn't follow through," Harry says in a cheeky tone. He's wound up, too. Between the self-cleaning techniques and Draco's heated looks, he's ready to start rutting against his husband shamelessly like a horny crup. He rolls his eyes when Draco only chuckles knowingly and shifts his hips in maddeningly slow, but quite ineffective, rolling circle. He grabs two fist-fulls of blonde hair and yanks Draco's mouth closer, kissing him almost hard enough to have their teeth clack together. He groans, the sound muffled by Draco's mouth.

Such a good start, but not quite enough. He groans again, in frustration this time, when he feels Draco pulling away.

Draco pulls back, a bit of concern worming into his lust-hazy brain. "Alright?" he murmurs. It sounded like a pleasurable groan, but he can't seem to help being a bit overly cautious.

"Yes," Harry sucks his teeth in annoyance. "I'm not fragile, love. I need you," he says, a hint of a whine in his voice as he wriggles against Draco. He huffs when Draco pulls back a bit more and only continues to give him an assessing look. He wiggles against Draco again, making sure his husband can feel his arousal. He smirks triumphantly when Draco's eyes flutter closed and he voices a groan of his own.

Since he's started showing, Draco's touches have doubled in frequency but gentled. Which is wonderful and always makes him feel treasured, adored, loved. But right now, he needs something more; he needs a hot, dirty reminder that they're both men. He reaches down and cups Draco, squeezing the bulge filling the front of his pants gently but insistently. He presses his palm in close, his fingers cupping and teasing.

"C'mon, love. I _need_ you," he breathes, leaning in so his breath washes over the sensitive skin of Draco's neck. He sees Draco's resolve crumble a bit more and he mentally smirks. He can up the ante; he's worked up enough to bring out what's needed. He can't always get into dirty talk, but right now he'll try anything to get Draco to toss him onto their bed and pound him into the mattress with that unrestrained passion that makes his toes curl as his body heats and thrums with magic and lust.

"I need you," he repeats, leaning in close, their chests touching. He slides his hands along the defined muscles in Draco's chest and moans softly. "I want you," he murmurs, his lips ghosting along Draco' neck. He smiles against the warm skin as goosebumps pop up and make his blonde shiver. Hands tighten around his hips and he hisses softly. "Fuck, yes. Gods, I need you to work me open. I don't care if you use your fingers or your tongue, I just want to be wet and opened wide –ready to be pinned down and fucked until I scream. Can you do that, Draco?" he murmurs, molding himself against Draco.

He can feel the rapid thud of Draco's heart beat, see the way his pulse flutters in hollow of his throat and the glazed look in his silvery eyes. He moans a bit more loudly than he needs to when Draco surges forward and kisses him, his hands almost roughly kneading his ass at the same time. It's fan-fucking-tastic and he tries to lead Draco to a softer surface. "Oh gods," he moans when he's picked up and the next thing he knows he's naked and being pressed down onto the sofa. He scrambles to his knees, wiggling his bum at Draco when the blonde takes too long to touch him again.

"Fuck, Harry," Draco groans, practically throwing himself at his tease of a husband. His hands aren't still as he kisses down Harry's neck to his back, his tongue sliding out and playing in the shallow dimples just above Harry's ass before dipping lightly into the very top of his ass. He hears a shaky exhale and smirks, but doesn't stop. Harry knows what happens when he opens that mouth of his and says such things.

Draco isn't a tease either.

His hands gently slide around Harry's hips, caressing the soft skin of his hips before settling on his growing belly. Harry wiggles back against him, seemingly unwilling to let the moment get tender. He can only smirk in response, his movements elsewhere picking up intensity, even as his hands stay gentle. By the time he's easing inside of Harry, they're both too worked up to go slow. He has a moment of concern for Harry's well-being (even if the healer has said, numerous time, that sex is perfectly fine and safe, he worries) before he's moving with increasing speed.

Harry can't seem to form any words, but doesn't seem to be needed. Each time he wants to moan 'faster' (but only gurgles), Draco does. Each time he wants to scream 'harder' (but only whimpers and pants), Draco does. His arms give out at some point but he's just as happy to fold his arms under his chest and rest his cheek on the cushion below him as Draco moves above him. He can't help the filthy sounding moan when he feels Draco's hands slide down his body and finally curl around his hips, his fingertips digging in -holding him tightly. He can only just push back with each thrust, keeping up as best he can but all too soon Draco's ministrations are too much and he's arching with a loud sound of pleasure.

Draco knows his movements are erratic, but he can't help it. It's all just too damn good and he's right behind Harry with a strangled gurgling sound that's highly unfitting a Malfoy but he's unable to make his throat work any other way. He flops onto Harry's back, unable to move for a few moments. Harry isn't complaining but he doesn't want to squish his pregnant husband so he finally works up the energy to wiggle off, grunting softly with the effort, until he's on his side and pressed up against the back cushions of the sofa. He pulls Harry close, wrapping his arms and legs around his sweaty, sated husband with a happy sigh.

Harry hums, nuzzling into Draco's chest as he's squeezed gently, hands coming to rest on his belly. It's nice to have a cuddle after a fantastic shag. He doesn't ask for a bowl of ice cream, even if it would be the perfect addition. He doesn't want to move and he doesn't want Draco hopping up to get it, either. He can get ice cream later.


	5. Ice cream no pickles?

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Thank you all for the reviews, follows and favorites. ____I'm quite pleased to see I'm not the only one that's quite enamored with the idea of Harry as a cuddly little Cub. _(And yes, the Chunky Monkey bit is purely a personal opinion.)  


_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Mpreg. Language._

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

"What's a—Chunky Monkey?" Draco asks, eyeing the container in Harry's hand. It looks Muggle and doesn't sound at all appealing. Surely they didn't _actually_ use monkeys...? He can't imagine that even putting them in ice cream would make it appetizing.

Harry pauses half-way through licking his spoon off. "The best ice cream flavor. Ever."

"What's in it?" Draco asks, leaning a bit to peek into the small carton clutched firmly in Harry's hand. He holds his hands up when Harry quickly jerks the small container around to his side with a glare, cradling it protectively. "I don't want any, I was only asking." He really should know better by now. He only gets between Harry and his food if he wants pain. Or a weeping Harry. He watches with confusion when Harry takes another large spoonful of ice cream and then spits something out. "What... are you doing?" he asks, watching as Harry turns his hand over and the thing falls into a pile of other… things.

Harry sighs and lets his spoon go to rest in the pint. "It's banana ice cream, chocolate bits and walnuts." He wrinkles his nose at the last one. "_That_ was a walnut," he says and pokes the offending item. "I hate them, so I spit them out."

"Uhm. Why eat it if you don't like walnuts?"

Harry glares and spoons another bite in his mouth. "Because everything else is orgasmic and it's easy enough to spit them out," he explains as if it's obvious. "Duh," he adds, unable to help himself. He giggles at Draco's affronted look. "I usually vanish them, but—" He shrugs, running a hand over his swollen belly. Doing any sort of magic this far into pregnancy isn't recommended; even simple spells he can normally do wandlessly and wordlessly.

"Ah," Draco says with a nod and slides into the over-stuffed chair behind Harry, kissing the top of his head once he's settled. He vanishes the pile of damp walnuts, a bit grossed out but refusing to say anything. "How are you?" he asks quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on Harry's shoulder.

Harry pauses in his task and leans back. "Alright I guess."

"You guess?" Draco asks softly, running his hands up and down Harry's sides, his thumbs pressing into Harry's lower back and making small circles. Harry makes a pleasured groan, leaning into his hands and he grins into the back of Harry's head, continuing his massage. It's one of the spots that causes Harry the most discomfort and he's happy to be able to help with _some_thing that causes Harry discomfort (or outright pain). It's one of the few parts of pregnancy he's not so fond of; that feeling of inadequacy when he can only do so much. He settles himself in for a thorough massage session, enjoying it almost as much as Harry.

He doesn't get to fondle his hubby as much as he'd like and he's quite happy to take advantage of the situation. If his hands wander a bit, Harry doesn't say anything about it. He lets his hands wander, waiting for Harry to answer him.

Harry sighs and lowers his ice cream to rest on his belly. "I'm fat. Grumpy. Starving. Oh, and I practically live in the bathroom now. But otherwise, I'm alright." He doesn't mention 'horny', knowing it'll only give Draco ideas. Honestly, sometimes he doesn't know who's more stuffed full of hormones these days with the way Draco shamelessly fondles him at every opportunity. He's not complaining, though, even if he's quite sure most of the flat surfaces in their home would be (were they able to).

"Oh," Draco says, wisely keeping any amusement out of his voice. He waits until Harry picks up his ice cream again and rubs his hands along Harry's sides and belly. "You're not fat," he murmurs. He can't, and won't, argue with the other things. Trying to cheer up a hormonally grumpy Harry is rather dangerous anymore. He likes all his bits and pieces where they are, thankyouverymuch. He sighs when he hears a snort, not at all surprised he can hear disbelief and amusement in the short sound. "Honestly, love. You're pregnant. And sexy."

Harry snorts again, nearly getting Chunky Monkey up his nose. "Sexy? You're insane," he accuses with a giggling snort. "My ass is huge, my thighs—Ugh, don't even get me started! I can't even see my own dick anymore!" he huffs. He feels like a whiny teenaged girl, but he can't seem to be able to help himself apparently.

Draco buries his face in Harry's neck, unsuccessfully muffling his amused laughter. "Merlin, if I said any of that, you'd castrate me."

"Yup," Harry chirps happily, spooning another bite of ice cream into his mouth. This isn't the first time Draco's called him sexy but he's still slow to go along with that idea. Especially since he remembers what he looked like only a few short years ago. Wiry muscled, smooth stomach and a perky ass. While he didn't exactly think Draco to be _that_ shallow, to only be attracted to him and love him for his looks, it was hard to think the blonde could like the extra bits. Of course, it's not like Draco fakes his enthusiasm; he'd know if he no longer turned the blonde on. He just has to bend over anymore and he's poked in the ass by his randy blonde—usually with the clothed bulge straining against his pants. He is starting to just deal with the fact he's probably never going to see that body again, though. He sighs and flops against Draco heavily. "I hate this. I want him out," he grouses, gently poking his bulging belly.

Draco chuckles and smoothes a hand over where Harry poked. "Soon, love." He stops chuckling, reality sneaking in. "Not that I want it to be _too_ soon..." Harry isn't due for another month; there is no way he wants to start a crying episode by pointing it out. The thought of such an early delivery sobers him, though.

"I know, I know," Harry grumps and wiggles a bit, trying to sit up. He gives up with a huff and hands his ice cream container to Draco, watching as his husband leans over easily and places it on the table in front of them. Skinny, fit, blonde bastard. Draco settles back and starts his massaging again and he hums in relieved bliss, practically melting into Draco's lap. He turns a bit and glares over his shoulder. "Are you serious?" he asks.

Draco shrugs and grins unrepentantly. "I did say you're sexy," he answers. He shifts his hips and presses his growing hard-on into Harry's ass a bit more. "What?" he laughs. "I've got a lap full of sexy husband, I'm going to react." He raises an eye brow, a clear _deal with it_ expression on his face.

Plus, has his _hands_ full of sexy husband, too. It's just not something he can control; he touches Harry, he gets turned on. He wiggles his eyebrows, amused and completely smitten when Harry tries to glare again, the effect ruined by pinking cheeks and a look projecting his own interest. He chuckles and wraps his arms around Harry as tightly as he dares. Harry can doubt his appeal all he wants but he can't argue with the proof poking his ass.

"Fine," he sighs, relaxing his grip a bit. "Any thoughts about what you want to do after the baby is born?" he asks, leaning forward and resting his cheek between Harry's shoulder blades. He's merely curious, wondering if Harry has given any further thought with what he wants to do.

Harry hums and relaxes further into Draco's embrace. "Not really. I don't want to rush into anything. I—I'd like to stay home with James," he admits softly. He's pretty sure Draco has other ideas about how they should raise their son, but he wants to do it himself. He's a bit nervous (scared out of his mind, more like) about being a parent and he realizes it might be logical to have a nanny of some sort but it's something he wants to do himself. He's had a little bit of practice being around Teddy and Hermione's daughter and he thinks he can manage.

"That's a wonderful idea," Draco nods, kissing the spot under his cheek. He feels Harry relax but he doesn't ask why he was tense to begin with. He's a bit apprehensive about being a father, he can only imagine Harry is still anxious as well. Neither of them had ideal childhoods but, to his mind, they can only do better for their own child. "And after that?"

Harry shrugs. "I dunno. I kinda liked the idea of teaching. Doing the DA all those years ago was kinda fun, even if was a bit nerve wracking." He turns a bit, trying to look over his shoulder at Draco. He can only see the top of his blonde head and he sighs softly. He clears his throat and sees Draco peeking up at him, an odd expression on his face. Oh well. Might as well just say it… "I don't think that'll be for awhile yet. At least not until James is in school."

"Or our youngest," Draco adds, grinning widely. He wiggles his eyebrows when Harry only stares, a stunned expression on his face. Right. Maybe when one's spouse is currently pregnant with their first child isn't the best time to bring up having more. Of course, he doesn't think he could be blamed. There's just something very appealing about Harry waddling around full of his child. He knows it's not practical to want that _all_ the time. "What?" he asks, the picture of innocence.

Harry blinks a few times, his hand coming up to rub at his belly. He wiggles and squirms until he's sitting astride Draco's lap, ignoring Draco's disgruntled expression for the change in position. "You want more kids?" he asks. He realizes they hadn't really talked about it before. He certainly does, but he hadn't thought to see what Draco thought on the matter. He definitely wants more than one but probably not as many to rival the Weasleys (much as he adores his large, adoptive family).

"Mhm." Draco nuzzles his nose against Harry's shoulder. "I feel sorta like one of those cave Muggles, grunting and wanting to keep you barefoot and pregnant," he says with a grin, laughing when Harry snorts and pushes his face away. "Of course, I suppose I'd draw the line at six. I think any more than that and I'd want to castrate myself."

Harry snorts again, laughter bubbling up. "Six?" he chokes out. "Merlin, I'd castrate you myself." Well, maybe not. Six seems like a nice, even number. He folds himself up to rest against Draco's chest, making a soft happy, contented sound when Draco's hand gently caresses his belly. His sigh turns into one of slight annoyance when another hand slides down and palms his ass. Incorrigible bastard. "Merlin, we're liable to have an even dozen, you randy bastard."

"Well, I can't argue against that. _Making_ the babies is definitely the best part."

Harry's groan dissolves into laughter. He really shouldn't be surprised Draco seems a bit preoccupied with sex. "True that," he has to agree. "So, you don't mind that I'd rather stay at home?" he asks quietly, getting the conversation back on track.

"No, not at all, Harry." Draco squeezes Harry tight enough to make him squeak. "I'm glad, truly. It's not like we need the income," he says dryly. Neither of them _have_ to work but he's gotten used to doing something every day, no longer content with just lounging and glancing at financial reports at the odd moment. He blames Harry, of course, but he wouldn't change it. "And who better to care for our child?"

Harry flushes, feeling warm and content. He's sure he'll be flooing Molly quite frequently over the next few months (er... years), but from her earlier enthusiasm, he knows she won't mind. He wraps both arms around Draco's neck, resting his head on his shoulder. "Love you," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on Draco's neck.

"And I love you," Draco says softly.

Of course, he ruins the moment by shifting his hands so one is in Harry's lap and the other is clamped on his ass again. "What?" he puts on the innocent expression again when Harry jumps and gives him a look. He chuckles when Harry's eye roll shifts and they migrate to the back of his head instead when his hands move in tandem. He can't help himself and he's quite pleased to feel Harry writhe against his hands and a breathy little sound to puff against his neck.

He also can't help himself from letting the hand on Harry's ass wander up his hips and sides. He lets his fingers sink into the soft areas, sighing happily as he touches all his favorite places.


	6. Damn rabbit food

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows. Double update? -gasp- I know!  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Mpreg. Language._

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

"What is that?" Draco asks, pointing at the long green thing in Harry's hand. By the crunch it makes as Harry bites it, it sounds appetizing even as his husband grimaces slightly as he chews. He feels a bit bad Harry's not enjoying it, but the face he's making wrinkles his nose adorably, though.

Harry stares morosely at the stalk of celery and sighs mournfully. "Celery," he mutters, emphasizing it with a crunch.

"Ah," Draco says, striding over and settling himself in the seat next to Harry. "Looks dreadful, if your face is anything to go by." He has heard of celery, but never as a sole food source. It's always _in_ things.

Harry nods sadly, taking another bite. "It is rather." He sighs and crunches through his celery stalk in quick little nibbles, determined to finish it. He doesn't _hate_ it but he just wishes he didn't have to eat it.

"So," Draco says slowly, unsure if he wants to actually continue or not, but he's quite curious. "Why eat it, love?"

Harry snorts and gives Draco a sour look. "Because."

"Because, _why_?" Draco presses. He doesn't understand how Harry can make himself do unpleasant things; it's just a foreign concept to him, even after all these years of knowing the other man.

Harry sighs and plucks another stalk from the damp paper towel laying on the table, glaring at it reproachfully. "_Because_, it's supposed to be good for you. Fills you up with no calories or some rubbish," he mumbles through another bite. Ugh, he hates the stringy bits most. Muggles found a way to remove seeds from watermelons and oranges, why hadn't they figured out how to get rid of the stringy bits in celery? It might make the damned vegetable a bit easier to eat.

"And that's supposed to mean you're to eat it?" Draco asks, still confused as he watches Harry stuff the rest his celery into his mouth and chewing it rapidly. He sits up a bit when realization dawns. He scowls a little, unsure how to address the issue now. He knows Harry isn't happy with his weight but he wishes his husband would remember he's not overly heavy. And that he just had a baby. He doesn't think Harry has to change a damn thing about himself, least of all his diet. He knows his husband ordinarily eats healthier than he did, but that probably added to Harry's frustrations since it seemed to help so little. His eyes trail down Harry's body, willing himself to see it as Harry does but he can't.

Harry rolls his eyes and turns in his seat enough to look at Draco. "Yes." He's not sure if he can admit aloud that he's more than a little worried he'll blow up like a shorter version of his uncle or cousin. He shudders, the image already flitting through his brain. Ugh.

"I see. And if I think that's positively mental?"

Harry snorts softly and pokes Draco in the chest, "I'd say 'shut up' because you're biased."

"Damn right," Draco says proudly, reaching out and running a hand down Harry's side, down his hip and landing on his thigh. He scootches closer, encouraged when Harry only gives him that adorable questioning look. It's been weeks since they've done more than make out like randy teenagers or a hurried hand-job or two and he's desperate for more contact. "You're perfect, love," he murmurs, sincerity heavy in his tone.

Harry slowly blinks, his hormones short-circuiting his thought processes. "'m not," he mutters, nibbling on his last stalk of celery. He's far from perfect, in lots of ways, but it warms him to hear Draco say it, nonetheless. He sometimes wishes Draco wouldn't encourage him but he's also grateful his husband doesn't tease him or put him down for the extra weight. It's better that Draco likes it but he wishes anything he tries actually makes a difference. He goes willingly when he's gently eased from his chair, settling across Draco's lap with a soft, resigned sigh. "Not squishing you?" he asks in a cheeky tone, wiggling around.

"No," Draco grins, sounding smug. He wraps his arms around Harry's waist, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder for a few moments as he gathers his thoughts. James is nearly 12 weeks old and they haven't had any real time to themselves since. He understands a baby will change things but most of the problem is on Harry's end. He doesn't pester his husband about it, though, and just enjoys the moment of closeness. "Are you worried about something... specifically? Is that why you haven't touched that Treacle Tart Hermione brought?"

Harry looks away, his gaze immediately going to the box in question. It's just sitting innocently on the counter but he looks at it like it's filled with spiders. "Maybe," he finally answers. He's been nearly drooling at the chance to have a piece but wants to avoid sweets from now on. The preservation charm on the tart only seems to taunt him; if the damn thing went bad, he could throw it away guilt-free.

"She made it herself, Harry," Draco points out. It's probably a low-blow tactic, but he's curious about Harry's motivations. He's reluctantly proud of the will power Harry has to be able to avoid this favorite dessert but he thinks it's a bit unnecessary. What's life without the small pleasures?

Harry swallows thickly, feeling guilt niggle at him. "I didn't know that," he murmurs, looking at the tart again. He had thought she bought it from a bakery. A hand-made Treacle Tart... how wonderful is Hermione? He wipes at his face, annoyed he's still affected by lingering baby hormones. He looks longingly at the white box, his resolve weakening. "I don't want to look like a little land whale," he finally mutters.

"You..." Draco trails off, trying not to snicker. Now he realizes—Oh, his silly husband. "You will never look like a little land whale," he says firmly, kissing along Harry's neck. He's only seen Harry's cousin and uncle, once, in passing. There's no way, in any sort of reality, Harry would ever look like that. Not only does his Harry have self control, he actually seems to be getting used to himself, even if he still whinges about it. Not to mention he's quite sure they don't actually share any family traits, since Harry is only related to his aunt by blood. (From what he remembers of the woman, equine animals came to mind, not marine mammals.)

Harry makes a scoffing noise even as he tilts his head a little to allow Draco's lips to go wherever his husband wants to place them. He shivers lightly, enjoying the ministrations even as he mulls over Draco's encouraging words. "I dunno, love," he murmurs thoughtfully. "It's probably in my genes to slowly blow up until I could be in a zoo."

"Nope," Draco repeats, popping the 'p', before going back to nibbling at Harry's shoulder. "Won't happen. I shan't allow it."

Harry snickers. "Right, like you can stop genetics."

"Well, no," Draco says slowly, leaning up. He purposely feels up all the soft spots on Harry's body, ignoring his own response to the action but making sure Harry sees (and feels) his very appreciative reaction. He grins when Harry flushes and gives a resigned sigh, ruining the glare he's trying to give. "You're too conscientious to allow that to happen." He nods and smiles when Harry's eyebrows rise up and a considering look flits across his face. He gives Harry a smug little grin, knowing he's right (and that _Harry_ knows he's right warms him in more ways than one). He laughs delightedly even when he's smacked playfully.

* * *

"Huh. That is surprisingly erotic," Draco says softly, leaning against the doorjamb as he watches Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes but smiles, pleased, nonetheless. He adjusts his grip on James, shifting the baby to a more comfortable position. He glares a little, without much heat, when he notices Draco still watching him intently. He wants to squirm with self-consciousness but he doesn't want to disturb James' nursing. "Stop it," he says softly, ducking his head and nuzzling James' pudgy pink cheek.

"No," Draco says simply, smirking with delight. He sidles closer and perches himself on the arm of Harry's chair. He runs a finger gently down James' cheek before cupping Harry's. "I just wanted to check on you two... Then you had to be all sexy and I got distracted." He grins unabashedly. "How are you?" he asks, sobering, and slides a hand through Harry's hair. It's messy as ever and perfect. He smiles when Harry automatically leans into the touch.

Harry shrugs a little, fighting the urge to wince when James' nibbles a bit too hard. "I'm alright."

"_How_ alright?" Draco asks suggestively, leaning forward and cupping the back of Harry's neck and squeezing gently. He grins unabashedly once again when Harry gives him a look that's half-disgruntled and half-resigned. He hasn't wanted to rush sex since James was born but he's quite sure the Healer had said anytime after 8 weeks was fine. Depending on Harry. It's been 12 and he's... antsy. He doesn't want to rush if Harry's not up to it but he still has to ask; he needs to know.

Harry sighs softly and shifts a half-asleep James to his shoulder and lightly pats his back. "I'm alright," he repeats with an eye roll, very aware where Draco's thoughts are. In the gutter, the utter pervert. He's been hoping to put his husband off for a bit longer; at least until he lost more of the baby weight. But he's been having a hard time fending off playful wandering hands and heated looks. Not to mention he's getting anxious himself, probably from the lingering hormones. He misses the wild sex just as much, really. "It hasn't been _that_ long."

"Twelve _weeks_, Harry," Draco points out, almost sounding pained. He refuses to admit it comes out as a whine and Harry has the grace not to mention it either. He can't remember any time in their relationship they've gone that long without intimate contact. Not even when they first started dating. "I won't rush you, I'm just curious." He takes another moment to study Harry with their son, pride and love making him feel flushed and warm. And turned on. Harry looks tired, but not overly so, and he's hoping their gently forced period of abstinence can be over. "My wrist is killing me, love," he says blandly.

Harry glares up at the blonde. "Do you have to talk that way in front of our son?" he hisses quietly, restraining the urge to cup his hands over James' tiny ears.

"He has no idea what I'm saying... and he's sleeping," Draco points out with a snicker. He follows Harry with his eyes as the other man stands and eases their son into his crib, smiling softly at the reluctant but proud and completely besotted look flitting across Harry's face. They've only started having James in his own room this week and so far, only Harry is having a problem with the arrangement—but even he's adjusting to the separation. "C'mon," he says softly, gently wrapping a hand around Harry's wrist and tugging.

Harry nods and follows Draco, casting a gentle _Lumos_, an orb of soft amber-tinged light floating in the corner as a night light. He closes the door until it's only opened a crack and nearly squeaks when he's pressed against the wall. "Draco," he breathes, barely able to get the second syllable out before his mouth is covered by Draco's and he's kissed fiercely enough to make blood roar in his ears and his knees weak. Fuck; what had he been waiting for? He grabs Draco, probably painfully, by the hair and kisses back, arching into him.

Draco has to force himself to pull back. Now isn't the time for fast and hard, not after 12 weeks; now is the time to, slowly, get reacquainted. He gentles his kisses, his touch lightening as his hands roam over Harry's body. He has to consciously pull himself back as his hands stroke across Harry's ass and down his thighs. He groans softly, pulling away from Harry's mouth and kissing down his jaw and neck.

"There's no rush, love," he murmurs. He smiles when he feels Harry's hair tickle him as his husband nods and the grip on his hair loosens. Fingers gently stroke down his neck and shoulders. He leads Harry to their room, unable to separate long enough to make sure they get there without tripping. Luckily they make it in one piece and without having to separate. He sighs softly, nuzzling Harry's neck. There's no hesitation in Harry's movements or any shyness when he slowly strips his husband of every piece of clothing. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight of a flushed, turned on Harry and wraps his arms around him again. He takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of Harry pressing against him, all soft and hard at the same time, before easing Harry onto his back as they hit the bed.


	7. Baby foods are for babies, Harry

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Thank you all for the continued follows, favorites and reviews. _

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. **Smut**. Language.  
_

_Enjoy.)_

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"What are you doing?" Draco asks, watching as Harry eats food off of James' tray with slow, deliberate movements. It's actually kind of adorable to watch the way Harry carefully pinches a piece of something between his pointer finger and thumb and pops it in his mouth, crunching through the piece of whatever-it-is with quick, little bites.

Harry turns a little and grins. "Helping Jamie eat," he says and goes back to what he was doing. He pushes a few pieces of cereal towards his 8-month-old son, making encouraging noises as he carefully demonstrates how to pick them up. He snickers softly when James only smacks both hands into the small pile, scattering cereal around. He repeats his demonstration, getting James' attention; his little green eyes watching Harry's every move.

"What are those?" Draco asks, pointing to the small rounds of dry cereal. He watches, a burst of warmth and pride going through him, as James carefully pinches a piece of food between his chubby fingers and brings the item to his mouth. He laughs when Harry starts nearly gibbering and praising the little boy and pushing more of the beige rings towards the drooling, gurgling baby as James squeals with delight.

Harry pushes more of the cereal into James' reach when two chubby fists smack at the pile again, managing to actually grab some. Now that the little boy has figured out what to do with them, he's no longer flinging them about. Well, as much. "Cheerios. Muggle cereal. Excellent for babies," he says, a bit distracted. He smiles widely when James gets another few pieces into his mouth, gurgling happily and waving his pudgy fists around as he gums the cereal into submission. Harry laughs with delight and picks a piece off of James' cheek, grimacing slightly at the slimy texture.

"Are they?" Draco asks, pulling a chair up and sitting next to his husband in front of their son. He's never heard of such a thing before and finds himself doubting the greatness of a Muggle product—just a bit. He pokes a piece of the cereal with an outstretched finger, feeling the firm, dry texture, and frowns slightly. "Isn't that going to choke him?" he asks, looking at Harry with concern.

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. "No, he's fine." As if to prove his point, James grabs a handful of cereal with a squeal and shoves them into his mouth, his lone tooth and copious amounts of drool mashing the cereal with ease. "See? They sort of smush apart and this way—" He pauses and pushes more errant cereal bits closer to his flailing child, "—he can do it himself."

"He's a mess," Draco says dryly. James is covered with various bits of food, half chewed pieces of cereal stuck to numerous areas of his face, neck and hair. He can't tell how messy James' hair _actually_ is though, since their son has inherited Harry's messy black locks. He can't tell how much is his son's natural 'finger-in-the-electric-socket' look and how much is dried food. He's still quite proud of James' accomplishment, of course, and gives his son a bright smile. He laughs when it's met with an enthusiastic, toothless grin and happy babble from his messy child.

Harry rolls his eyes and gives James an adoring look. "Of course he is," he says and munches on a few more pieces of cereal. "It takes awhile to perfect the art of feeding oneself." He looks over at Draco and grins. "You were probably adorable at this age, smooshing food into that beautiful hair," he says and smoothes a few errant strands of said hair from Draco's face with his index finger, giving the blonde a warm smile.

"Shut up," Draco says and rolls his eyes right back at his husband. "I was always impeccable—even as a child, I assure you."

Harry laughs, a clear mental image of toddler-Draco sitting poised and proud in an ornate highchair, daintily eating whatever wizards had instead of Cheerios; a pudgy little pinky outstretched primly as he sedately ate each morsel, chewing thoroughly between each bite. "Probably were, you uptight prat. No doubt avoided the mess of birth and just appeared on a cloud from the heavens instead of being squeezed out of his mummy." He snickers at Draco's affronted look, probably for putting horrifying images of his mother's womanly parts in his head. He pours more cereal onto James' tray, snacking on more of them before James can get to them and make them all soggy.

"I can't believe you'd steal our son's food," Draco chuckles, watching as Harry crunches through his pilfered snack. He looks Harry over and grins. Harry has still not been able to lose all of the 'baby weight' and he's more than a little glad. He doesn't like that Harry will still pout sometimes as he stares in a mirror but he definitely likes what _he_ sees. Sure, he liked Harry's body before but he just as thoroughly enjoys the sight of it now. Probably more so, for some unknown reason. He moans softly when he mentally pictures Harry naked; his soft (yet still delightfully firm) thighs, belly and ass. He scoots his chair closer and strokes a hand down Harry's leg, sliding up and down a little to fondle his thigh. He squeezes it, enjoying the extra give, and shuffles a little closer. He pouts when his hand is gently slapped away.

Harry huffs, annoyed Draco's fondling him in front of their son. Insatiable bastard. "I'm not stealing his food—we're _sharing_. He doesn't mind, do you Jamie?" he asks and said toddler squeals with delight and offers a handful of slightly soggy cereal to Harry. He gives Draco a smug _told you so_ look and takes the offered food with a 'thank you, Jamie', slyly levitating it into the trash and eating fresh, un-drooled on cereal. "And stop that," he says pushing Draco's hand away again as it sneaks towards his ass. "Have a little self-control in front of our son."

"No." Draco goes back to trying to feel up Harry. He manages to get a hand up the soft t-shirt before Harry wiggles away with a breathless '_Stop'_. He chuckles and slides his hand down the back of Harry's pants. "What? He can't see this," he defends and firmly kneads the plump cheek in his hand, only a little disappointed the thin cotton of Harry's boxer-briefs keeps him from feeling warm, soft skin. He moans quietly and nuzzles into Harry's neck to muffle the sound. He really doesn't want to moan (especially like _that)_ in front of their son but he can't help it.

"You're right," he says and slowly pulls his hand out. "Sorry." Any more and he'd be doing a lot more than just feeling Harry up. As appealing a thought it is to throw Harry on the table and do wicked things until Harry's a whimpering, writhing mess, he simply can't see that going over well with James right here. He looks at his messy son and grins as James' tongue pokes out and he blows raspberries. He mimics the action, making James squeal and wave his fists about in baby-ecstasy.

Harry glances at Draco from the corner of his eye and laughs softly at the image of his proper husband blowing raspberries at their son. It's quite adorable. Draco notices him looking and wiggles his eyebrows at him and he barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. He's married an utter pervert. He grins, not-so-secretly thrilled about it.

He leans closer to Draco, allowing his lips to graze the outer shell of his ear. "Keep it in your pants until after bedtime, hmm?" he whispers. He stifles a giggle when a shudder goes through Draco's body. He can't help chuckling softly when Draco nods emphatically. He watches his husband get up in a hurry, leaving the room and rushing up the stairs. He's a bit confused by the sudden departure until the muffled sound of the tap running makes him grin and shake his head a little.

"I'm sure that's my cue to get you out and into the bath daddy's running now," he says to James. James only looks up and babbles something that almost resembles a question, waving his cereal filled fists about. Harry checks the time; it's barely past 6, a bit early for bedtime. He sighs. "Well, we'll just have a nice long bath then, hmm?" James gurgles in reply, pushing more cereal into his mouth. Harry smiles at him, cooing again. He hears the water shut off and sighs. Luckily, James is done eating his fill, only playing and smooshing the cereal now. He sets about picking cereal pieces off his son and cleaning the area, knowing Draco is eagerly awaiting them. Horny bastard.

Later, he barely gets James' door closed before he's pounced on. "Draco!" he hisses quietly. He shuffles down the hallway, trying to glare at the blonde. "What the hell?"

"It's bedtime," Draco whispers, approaching Harry again. He grins and latches on to Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist and leading him, backwards, down the hall towards their bedroom. "I'm not sleepy, but we need to be in bed. Like, an hour ago." He pauses long enough to kiss Harry, nipping at his bottom lip and running his tongue along it.

Harry huffs softly but allows himself to be lead, his body already tingling pleasantly with anticipation of what he knows to be coming. He's stopped just outside their doorway and warm lips settle over his. He hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck. The kiss doesn't stay sweet and loving long, Draco quickly deepening it and running hands down his back and ass. He pulls away with a moan and buries his face in Draco's neck, arching and twisting when Draco's mouth settles on his neck and hands cup his ass firmly, slender fingers kneading.

"Inside," he breathes. It's getting more difficult to be quiet the more Draco's hands move. He stifles himself against Draco's neck as the blonde's hands move again, fingers fluttering against his sensitive nipples and the tender areas right by his ribs. He wants to touch Draco in return but he doesn't get the chance before he's being moved and nearly tossed around by his enthusiastic husband.

"Yes," Draco groans and moves them into their room, shutting the door and taking a moment to throw a silencing charm at it. He adjusts it when Harry glances nervously at the door, making sure they could hear James but not the other way around. He drops his wand and goes back to his earlier task, tasting Harry's neck and sliding his pants and underwear off. He groans softly when the denim pools at Harry's feet and his hands touch bare, soft skin. He's on his knees and mouthing at Harry's soft belly, his hands sliding around to fondle and caress Harry's ass. He looks up and smirks at Harry's exasperated expression. "You're sexy. Deal with it, love."

Harry doesn't answer but just wiggles his head in what he hopes Draco takes as a nod, feeling quite unwilling to argue. Yeah, he's dealing with it, slowly starting to get comfortable with himself. He doesn't want to argue, of course, and he is aware Draco is sincere in his words. Even so, he _can't_ argue with his husband, especially when Draco carefully spins him and a hot, wet mouth is kissing down the small of his back and a slick tongue wiggles and glides wetly between his cheeks. Hands gently but firmly continue their fondling, pulling his apart a little. His head flops back and he's very glad Draco is propping him up, strong hands sliding around his hips to firmly plant themselves on the fronts of his thighs, as his knees go wobbly. He reaches behind himself enough to slide a hand into Draco's hair and hold on, tightening his grip a little when Draco moans softly in appreciation.

He's not sure which is turning him on more; the slick slide of Draco working him open, the wet, panting sounds echoing up from between his thighs from Draco's harsh, excited breaths as he does so or the filthy sounding moans coming from Draco amidst it all. He takes one step and flops onto the bed, Draco following him—not even pausing in his ministrations. He whimpers and grabs the sheets with both hands, fisting the material tightly, as he rolls his hips and presses back into Draco's face eagerly.

Draco grins at the mindless keening sounds he hears coming from Harry and with one last flick of his tongue he leans up and summons the nearest bottle of lube. He catches it and works his fingers into Harry's relaxed body, groaning softly as his fingers slide into slick, wet, warmth. He flips Harry when he's convinced he'll explode if he has to wait another minute and slides inside before his husband is even fully on his back. He runs his hands up Harry's belly and chest, swooping down to circle his hips, caressing the area with his fingertips. He moans softly, eyes closing at the wonderful feeling as his hands return to grip Harry's thighs. He looks, mesmerized and insanely turned on, as his fingers sink into the soft flesh. Fuck, he loves Harry's thighs; he wishes he could just bury his face in them and _live_ there.

Harry arches into each thrust, panting and moaning quietly with each stroke that fills him and sparks pleasure through his entire body. Draco always finds each pleasure point on his body —he could probably do it blindfolded. His eyes flutter closed when one pale, slender hand slides down his thigh and pushes up _just so_, and the other twines tightly with the hand resting above his head. "Draco," he murmurs, leaning up and sighing happily when Draco is right there, warm lips and hot breath.

He pants and moans into the blonde's mouth and he's not sure how much longer he can hold out against the mind-melting pleasure being wrung from him by expert ministrations and the fierce longing he sees every time he looks up at Draco. He shudders as Draco's elbows tremble and he drops to press their slick bodies together, trapping his cock between their bodies. And, oh _yes_, just like _that_; the friction is exquisite. He arches with a guttural moan when he comes.

Draco grunts and his toes curl as pleasure uncoils sharply, his orgasm barreling though him. He twitches, thankful Harry's eyes are closed at the moment and his blissed-out husband misses the stupid-blank expression of pleasure he knows is on his face. Harry can say his 'come face' is sexy all he wants, he knows he looks like an idiot— he can _feel_ it. He relaxes slowly, gently pulling out with a slick squelching sound that always makes him moan softly and twitch with interest, and he rolls gracelessly, bringing Harry with to rest on top of him. He sighs and squeezes his half-asleep husband, kissing him when he's able to work Harry's face up. He lets his hands wander all over Harry's body, chuckling softly when Harry giggles breathlessly and squirms against him weakly but doesn't make him stop.

He's pleased Harry doesn't appear to give a toss they're sprawled out, shamelessly naked, on top of their bed. He grins, continuing his fondling, and laughs softly when he's slapped at, Harry's sleep-fuzzy voice chastising him for touching him. Apparently, his husband is too sleepy to deal with hands on his nipples and ass any longer. He wants to pout but he's well aware of how sensitive those areas are; that _is_ why he likes to fondle them so much.

Oh well.

He can wait until Harry's had a nap for another go.


	8. Ruined love affair with fried chicken

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature contend and language._

_Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows! This one is kinda short, so another double update! Yay!  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Language._

_Enjoy!)_

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"Thigh or breast?"

Harry taps a finger on his chin, looking over the options. He ignores Draco's immature snickering as best he can, even though he was tempted to do the same thing. "Thigh," he finally decides. He tries not to make impatient grabby hands as Draco slides a plate with his fried chicken across the table towards him. He moans softly as he inhales the delicious aroma. Oh, he loves this stuff. He ignores the stare from Draco and takes a large bite, humming as he gets a mouthful of flavorful meat and breading. "Merlin, that's good," he says around his mouthful. He hums happily, nibbling small bites off.

"I know," Draco says, finally pulling his attention away from Harry eating and picking at his own piece of fried chicken. He likes it well enough but he enjoys watching Harry eat it more. It's one of his favorite things to do—watch Harry eat. He's especially enjoying the joy of fried chicken, mostly because his husband eats with his fingers and has to lick at his fingers frequently as he nibbled and ate with his usual enjoyment. Absently, he picks the fried coating off with his fork and tears a small piece off. He pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth."What?" he asks, noticing Harry is giving him a strange look.

Harry laughs and gently wiggles his half-eaten piece of chicken towards the blonde. "Using a fork is just weird." He looks around to make his point. Draco is the only weirdo eating his fried chicken with a plastic fork. He ponders the wisdom of pointing out that the forks are only for the side-dishes but doesn't. Draco really won't care.

"I don't correct _your_ eating habits," Draco says, a slightly haughty tone in his voice. He pointedly eats his bite off the horrid little plastic fork, smirking when Harry huffs at him and rolls his eyes. He's aware Harry's only trying, in his way, to help him fit in with his surroundings. But he won't eat with his hands; not only is it so... plebeian, but he's not exactly all that sure how clean his hands _are_. Harry had been too impatient to sit down with their food to allow him to wash. Or use a charm, being around Muggles and all that.

Harry shrugs. "Fair enough. Weirdo," he mutters and busies his mouth with chicken and coleslaw, hopefully keeping himself from saying anything else to irritate Draco. It's not exactly rare for the blonde to get huffy and pout, even in public. A high-pitched giggle gets his attention and he turns towards his wiggling son. He laughs and pushes his plate towards James, sharing his mound of mashed potatoes, when the little boy demands food and sits forward in the high chair making grabby hands at it. He rolls his eyes when Draco carefully folds a plastic spoon in the toddler's other hand. He snickers when James peers at it curiously before completely ignoring it.

"He eats like you," Draco says, trying to sound annoyed but smiling with fond affection. He winces a bit when James shoves a fistful of mashed potatoes in his face, his whole hand disappearing into his mouth and coming out almost clean. "I don't know why I bothered," he says and takes the spoon back with a sigh when it's only used to tap the table and knock things onto the floor. He makes a face when James squawks over the loss of his 'toy' and pushes a biscuit at him. As he hoped, James' indignant cries cease and he happily mumbles a 'thank you' while he smashes the biscuit on the table.

James makes a happy sound, similar to the sound Harry makes when eating sweets, when the biscuit breaks apart into many pieces . He proceeds to carefully pick up small bits of it, tucking them into his mouth at a rapid pace, chewing a bit in between only when Draco gives him a look. It doesn't take him long to demolish the fluffy thing.

Harry glares across the table. "I do not eat like _that,_" he hisses, pointing at their son. James has another biscuit and he's trying to eat this one without smashing it first. He pauses for a moment, trying to remember if he actually ever has eaten so... messily. No; he's even been able to control himself around Treacle Tart. He snorts when Draco just wiggles his eyebrows and grins lewdly. "Pervert," he mutters under his breath. He chuckles when James smashes a handful of his mashed potatoes between his fingers, watching the pale mess ooze between his fingers, babbling happily and bouncing in his seat. "How adorable is that, though?" he says, pointing at the messy toddler –who's now trying to eat all the potatoes from in between his fingers—and grins.

"Ugh. Not adorable. _You're_ cleaning him," Draco says, sliding his chair back a bit when he sees James eyeing the container of gravy. He sends a grateful expression to his husband when Harry nudges the container away, subtly enough so James loses his interest in it and doesn't fuss when he's denied the pleasure of sticking his hand in it (or spilling it all over the table). The little boy focuses back on eating biscuit remnants and small pieces of chicken that Harry hands him. He clears his throat and moves his chair closer to Harry's. He strokes a hand down Harry's lower back.

Harry turns and gives Draco a questioning glance. "What is it?" he asks, trying not to sigh, when Draco continues to stroke and subtly fondle but not meet his eyes. He knows when his husband is trying to wheedle (even if the blonde refuses to believe he stoops so low as to _do_ such a thing) and that's exactly what he's doing now. The lack of eye-contact is worrisome... There aren't many reasons he can think of that would make Draco _that_ wary.

"My mum."

Harry nods slowly, picking at another piece of chicken. Damn that blonde if this makes his stomach turn and he can't stomach fried chicken ever again. "What about her?" he asks calmly when Draco doesn't continue. He distracts himself by focusing on James, watching his son eat pieces of chicken rapidly. He tears into another piece, placing them in front of the little boy, trying to ignore the pleading look he can feel on the side of his face. If he looks, he'll just agree to whatever Draco asks. He can _feel_ those damn puppy-eyes…

"She'd like us to visit. With James." Well, _visit_ is less accurate than _meet_. His son is nearly 19-months-old and has yet to met his grandmother (or grandfather). He isn't exactly upset by that and he knows Harry would prefer James never did (which he knows, with Harry's ways of thinking about family, is rather telling of how his husband feels about his parents). He doesn't exactly disagree with his husband... but family is family. "She requested we stop by tomorrow for lunch." Again, _requested_ is the more polite way to phrase the way she had demanded to see them. _All_ of them. She made it quite clear Harry was to join them, as well. Either she expected Harry to wiggle his way out of going or convincing him not to go at all.

Harry sighs softly again and keeps his focus on James. His son babbles happily when he sees him looking and offers him a handful of smashed biscuit. He accepts it with a smile and James goes back to eating mashed potatoes and bits of chicken with his fingers. "Fine. It's not like we _can't_ go," he mutters in a huff.

He still doesn't like either of the elder Malfoys. They've made their (low) opinion of him quite known; he's not looking forward to their scrutiny, especially because now they'll focus that snooty attitude on his son as well. He has a bit of respect for Narcissa because of her brave moment all those years ago but he doesn't _like_ the woman. She's too rigid and withdrawn, even with Draco. As for Lucius... he'd happily blast the man to pieces and see those bits sold on the black market for potion ingredients (or Kneazle chow). As far as he knows, the feelings are all quite mutual.

He really doesn't want either of them around his son. He looks up and sighs again at the cautious, hopeful smile Draco is sending him. How can he refuse that? He can't so he finds himself nodding; once.

"Thank you, love," Draco murmurs, planting kisses on the back of Harry's hand and up his arm. He doesn't care they're being stared at. He grins at his son when James bounces in his seat and giggles happily, clapping his messy hands with unrestrained delight. "Are you excited to see your grandparents, my little love?" he asks in a coo.

He frowns a little when James' excited bounces and happy noises stop and the little boy's face crinkles up into the beginnings of an emotional outburst. He looks to Harry, ready to ask if he's somehow brainwashed their son against his parents already and realizes he looks just as stunned. And amused— the cheeky wanker. He's closer so he gently guides James out of the high seat and snuggles the softly sniffling little boy, grimacing a little as small, mashed potato-y hands clutch at his shirt.

Harry runs a hand down the back of James' head, smoothing his wild hair as he murmurs soothing words of comfort along with Draco. "That was weird," he says, trying not to look as amused and downright excited as he feels. He really doesn't understand the reaction but he knows it won't change their plans for tomorrow. With any luck, James will have a horrible tantrum and they'll be forced to leave early when Draco's parents won't stand for such uncouth behavior.

Oh _darn_.


	9. I didn't expect that on the menu

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Thank you all for the reviews! _

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Language._

_Enjoy.)_

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"Are you—Are you seriously eating? _Now_?"

Harry looks up from his sandwich and slowly nods. He swallows and gives Draco a small, sheepish smile. "Yeah, I didn't want to go to your parent's house hungry and embarrass myself by stuffing my face." Plus, he doesn't know if he'll even _like_ the food Draco's parents are going to offer. He's fully expecting weird, rich people food. Weird, rich, _pure-blood wizard_ food. He tries not to shudder at the thought. He breaks off a small piece of his sandwich and gives to a grabby James, kissing the top of the little boy's messy head when he babbles a 'tank you'. He smiles, watching as James kicks his feet happily as he gnaws on his piece of sandwich. "Sorry."

Draco waves off Harry's apology with a smile; his husband has a good point. "Ah, well in that case..." He grabs a small bag of chips, pulling it open and crunching one before laying the open bag on the table in front of Harry. James immediately makes a grab for it, squealing with happiness that his spot on Harry's lap offers him a great vantage point. He pouts when the bag is pushed out of reach, looking up at Draco with big, pleading, green eyes. "Ah ah—" Draco tuts at his fussing son, stoically ignoring the impossibly large, green puppy-eyes being aimed at him. "You'll make a mess and we haven't time to hose you off."

Harry snickers and offers James another bit of bread, looking up when Draco runs a hand over his hair and kisses his forehead. He finishes his sandwich and claps the crumbs off his hands. He checks the time and tries not to pout and try his hand at his own puppy-eyed look. Or cringe. "Time to go. Wouldn't want to be late."

"No; we certainly wouldn't," Draco drawls and helps Harry up. He can't help the quick fondle and pinch he gives Harry's ass as he stands and walks past, grinning unabashedly when he's given a scandalous look as his husband squirms out of reach. He waves Harry in front of him and just watches as Harry heads towards the floo, clutching James to his chest like a security blanket. Or maybe a shield. With a bit of maneuvering, he manages to get them all in the floo together, knowing Harry wouldn't want to go on his own _or_ arrive last.

They pop out of the floo, James sneezing adorably and looking around with wide green eyes. He leans further into Harry's body, his little hands tightening in Harry's robes. He's not normally a shy child but the place is massive and intimidating enough to have him clinging like a little monkey. He leans his head against Harry's shoulder, his eyes flicking everywhere, trying to take in the whole room. "Big," he mumbles against his fist.

Draco hums in agreement, looking around. Yes, he can understand his son's fascination; the room is bigger than their entire home. He inclines his head in greeting when his mother and father enter the room in a silent, graceful billowing of robes. He waits for them to approach. "Mother," he says and kisses her cheek. "Father," he says, inclining his head again. He pulls Harry to his side, running a hand down his side to calm him, and lets his hand rest on his hip. "You know Harry." His parents both nod politely.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Harry says quietly. He wants to burrow into Draco's side but he doesn't. He shifts James to his hip and waits for Draco to introduce their son. He probably won't be able to be as pleasant, or polite, as his husband. He bounces James when he makes a quiet fussing sound, his hands trying to fist in his hair, and looks over to Draco.

Draco stifles a snicker. "Mother, Father, this is our son, James," he says, nodding at the little boy now peeking shyly at the two strangers from Harry's shoulder. He tickles James under the chin, hoping to get him to look up, and the little boy giggles and grabs at his finger with an amused, slightly chiding 'Da!'. He beams proudly when his parents take a good look at his son.

At first glance, James is all Harry; messy black hair and bright green eyes. But the shape and angles of his little face are already slightly more pointed and angular, taking after the Malfoy part of his genetics. He adores seeing his eye shape but Harry's brilliant coloring. He tries not to glare when his parents eye the little boy like one would an animal at auction. He feels Harry shift subtly, angling James away from their assessing gazes. He angles his body a bit, a possessive protective gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by his parents. Not that they relax and stop being utter assholes...

"He's lovely," Narcissa says, bending at the waist slightly to get a closer look. James goggles up at her, his green eyes wide and curious. "Hello James," she says, managing a small smile. It's difficult to stifle the urge to coo when the little boy smiles shyly at her and waves a tiny, chubby fist towards her. She deftly dodges the wet fist obviously attempting to grab at her long hair dangling teasingly and smiles again when it goes back into the little boy's mouth as he gnaws on it briefly, bouncing a little in Harry's arms.

She notices the way Harry is cradling the child and she tries not to frown. "Did you not bring your nanny?" she asks, subtly looking behind the trio, looking for some sort of sling or… baby holding device of _some_ sort. She glances towards the floo, as if expecting another person to join them.

Draco clears his throat. "No, no nanny, Mother."

"Nanny elf?" Lucius offers, trying not to inject too much scorn into his tone. He's appalled, naturally, but he promised Narcissa he'd 'behave'—whatever that means.

Draco can feel Harry's nervous gaze on the side of his face. They had discussed it (and quickly dismissed the idea) but he's a little worried Harry is going to think he'd just go along with whatever asinine things his parents say to avoid an argument. He doesn't care what his parents think; he adores that Harry cares for James. And he does a wonderful job of it. He gives Harry a comforting, gentle squeeze.

He smiles, "No, no nanny elves, either. Harry takes care of Jamie." He sends his parents a flat look, daring either of them to question them. They both just incline their heads, brows ever-so-slightly furrowed in disapproval. He nearly snorts; like he needs their approval. If he did, he certainly wouldn't be standing where he is right now with Harry and his son by his side.

Harry holds James and stands quietly, observing the Malfoys with their unspoken conversations and odd little rituals. He stands proud when he notices Lucius' gaze settling on him with clear disdain. He tries not to use James as a shield or an item of security but he does, ducking his head a bit to take a deep lungful of James' soft baby scent and trying not to look like he's avoiding Lucius' piercing silvery glare. It's starling that the same eyes on Draco look at him with warmth. It nearly makes him shiver to see the difference; he doesn't like it. He wants to hide his face again when Lucius' gaze sweeps down his body and he fights the urge to squirm or smooth his robes in an effort to hide his generous size. He presses closer to Draco shamelessly but as subtly as he can.

"Well, I was told dinner was at seven," Draco says, feeling irritated and annoyed that his parents have managed to scare his son and freak his husband out in under 5 minutes. He catches his father glaring pointedly at Harry's slight belly and generous robe size and sneers at him. He'll take quite a bit from his parents but he won't allow them to belittle his Harry. Thankfully, his mother hasn't forgotten her manners and leads the way to one of the less formal dining rooms. He hangs back and places a calming hand on the small of Harry's back, pressing in close so he can murmur quietly in his ear, "Fuck him, Harry." He tickles James' chin when his son looks up and gives him a happy grin.

Harry nods, unable to stop his mouth moving into a smile at Draco's words (or remind Draco of appropriate language in front of their son). He hadn't been sure if Draco had caught his father's icy glare. He really shouldn't be surprised; Draco notices everything. "I'll try to remember he's a stuck up git, love," he says cheekily. He knows it's Draco's father but he doesn't feel nearly as bad about it as he probably should. He grins when Draco chuckles, nods and kisses his temple.

He pauses as he enters the dining room and feels his stomach plummet when there's no high-chair for James. Didn't the elder Malfoys know they were bringing a small child? He's pretty sure Narcissa had been quite aware of that fact. He mentally shrugs—he's no stranger to perching James on his lap and eating that way. It tends to be messier and they both generally wear more food than they eat but he doesn't care. The Malfoys obviously won't mind, seeing as there is nowhere else for his son to sit. He continues on towards the table, nodding along to James' excited babble about the large room and inquiries about dinner.

Draco sighs, noticing the lack of a high-chair as well. He knows it's his parents' subtle way of disapproving of the child being at the table. He softly tsks, not even bothering to hide the sneer directed at his parents. He knows they think James should be in the kitchens with his nanny or nanny elf (or with Harry—probably hoping to rid themselves of two nuisances at once). He pulls out Harry's chair and smiles proudly when Harry tucks himself into the seat and settles James on his lap. He kisses both dark heads and takes his seat next to Harry. He gives his father a pointed look when he glares at James sitting on Harry's lap.

"Draco," Narcissa says quietly, unsure how to handle the child situation now. She's not comfortable dictating how the young men should rear their son, but it just isn't proper to have a small child in the dining room. Until they had table manners, that is. Her son turns to her, a hint of a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. It makes her want to frown or reprimand him, but she keeps her calm. "Would you like... a chair for James?"

Draco looks at Harry, who shrugs one shoulder slightly and gives a soft shake of his head. "No, thank you. He's fine," he says, giving his mother a bland smile. Either they hadn't counted on Harry just sitting with James or they hoped to make one of them have to ask for 'special treatment'. Or maybe they hoped Harry would be embarrassed and go eat elsewhere with James. He wants to sigh, already annoyed with their subtle games and jabs.

Dinner was fun. Draco can't remember the last time he's enjoyed a meal with his parents so much. Harry had kept James on his lap and the little boy had proceeded to eat with his usual gusto. They also discovered James had an immediate dislike of caviar, shrimp and cucumbers. James didn't toss the food on the floor, in his usual style, but simply offered them to Harry or Draco with a questioning noise. He still isn't sure what to make of the sounds, knowing James had quite a few words in his vocabulary by now (talking in full—albeit short—sentences, more often than not) but he doesn't force it issue; James apparently being shy around his parents isn't something he's all that surprised to see.

James only offered a small cucumber sandwich to Lucius once; the resulting scowl on the older man's face had James pulling away with a quiet whimper and snuggling into Harry's chest. It took nearly all of Draco's willpower not to snicker when James' aimed a baleful glare across the table once Lucius' attention returned to his food. James hadn't offered anything to either of the elder Malfoy's since and he ate dessert with a quietness that had Harry and Draco sharing glances as they watched James eat.

Narcissa's request to hold James hadn't gone over well. The little boy had gone stiff and almost immediately leaned out of her arms (nearly tumbling from the witch's arms from the sudden move), looking pleadingly between Harry and Draco, his hands out. Draco had rescued him, not even bothering to offer his mother an apologetic look as he settled James in the crook of his arm. He didn't protest or scold his son when James still didn't settle, with a soft but insistent 'Ma' as he leaned away and towards Harry. He sidled closer to Harry and let his husband take their son, knowing the pair of them were probably at their limits of their discomfort and needed the mutually comforting touch. Indeed, once James settled against Harry's chest, they both relaxed quite a bit.

By the time they're ready to floo home, James is fast asleep and snuggled against Harry's shoulder, one pudgy hand lightly gripping his dark hair and the other loosely clutching his robes. It's the first time his grip has loosened since returning to Harry's hold.

"Well, this was fun," Draco says politely, kissing his mother's cheek and nodding to his father. He politely ignores the way his parents share a look and focuses on Harry, a hand gently running through James' messy hair as he leans down to kiss his temple. He smiles when James makes a sleepy sigh of contentment and murmurs 'Da' softly. "Ready, love?"

Harry nods and gives an awkward little bow to Draco's parents, trying not to mumble when he bids them good night. "Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy." He turns and heads into the floo without waiting for an answer, or veiled jibe more likely, and lands in his own living room with a relieved sigh. Merlin, if he never has to see Draco's parents again, it'll be too soon. He stares, confused and a little concerned, when Draco doesn't immediately follow after him. He just heads upstairs to put Jamie to bed, figuring Draco needs a private moment with his parents.

Hopefully to remind them, in his own special way, not to be such assholes next time. _If_ there is a next time... And he's not all that ashamed to admit he hopes there isn't.

"Alright, what is it?" Draco asks, turning from the now quiet floo to look at his parents. He glances between them and just barely manages not to scowl when they both shift a bit on their feet. "What?" he repeats, a bit louder.

Narcissa clears her throat softly and steps closer to her son. "Nothing, darling. We're just... upset we haven't met your little family sooner."

"That would be of your own doing," Draco reminds them coolly. His gaze flicks between his parents, not at all surprised to notice his mother looks a bit chastised but his father almost looks bored. "You didn't even attend our wedding."

Narcissa nods once, a regretful frown flitting across her face briefly. "Yes, well. We've been known to make mistakes before," she says wryly, smirking a little when Lucius hisses softly and Draco snorts a laugh. "James is beautiful, darling. And Harry is... quite charming," she says politely. She doesn't know the young man well but she can admit he had indeed captured her son's heart and proved himself a very competent parent, even if he did (unwisely) eschew the use of nannies or house-elves. "Will you visit again?" she asks, trying not to beg but willing to if needs must.

"I'll see how Harry feels about it," Draco says after a moment of thought. "You didn't exactly ingratiate yourselves to him," he adds dryly. Or James—his son had seemed quite upset when faced with both of his parents.

Lucius sniffs. "It isn't our problem if the little Half-Blood doesn't have the proper manners or upbringing to know how to behave. He's practically a Muggle," he adds snidely, face pinched with disdain.

"Hmm," Draco hums noncommittally, turning on his heel. He really doesn't feel the need to stand here another moment trying to, again, defend his husband to his father. Even if it's unfounded bullshit, he knows when he's faced with an impossible endeavor. He'd been rather foolish to think his father would tone down his elitist bullshit when provided with the next Malfoy male heir. He really should have known better—the man is impossible to please; always had been, always will be. He turns when there's a pained _oomph_ and just catches sight of his mother's hand returning to her side. "I'll floo you. Later—once we've discussed it."

Narcissa nods and watches her son disappear in a flash of green. The moment the flames die down, she rounds on her husband and smacks him in the chest. Hard. She so does enjoy the moments she can react freely. "You idiot!" she hisses, hitting Lucius' chest with each word. "We'll never see our grandson again if you can't control your foolish mouth!"

"I refuse to curb my tongue in my own home!" Lucius says, annoyed with himself when he sounds rather petulant instead of indignant and stern. "I don't see the big deal about that... child," he says, waving a hand dismissively towards to floo; indicating his grandson. "He doesn't resemble a Malfoy at all," he says with a sniff, lifting his chin stubbornly.

Narcissa laughs softly, partly at Lucius' stubbornness and also because she's remembering the precious little boy. "Oh, he does indeed," she insists, tsking at her husband. It's clear the child's features are all Malfoy but with Potter's striking coloring; Lucius is merely being difficult. He's a most breathtaking child and she longs to see him mature and grow. "I'm warning you, Lucius," she says softly, her voice low with warning. She stands taller when Lucius looks appropriately wary; it's nice to see her husband has paid attention and learned over the course of their marriage that's she's not a witch to be trifled with. "I _won't_ have this family divided any longer. You'll regret the day I lose contact with my grandchildren."

"Grand_children_?" Lucius repeats, his eyes narrowing slowly as he studies his wife. He doesn't think she's implying Draco being guilty of infidelity... "Is that why the Potter boy is so fat?" he asks after a few beats of silence.

Narcissa huffs and smacks Lucius again, hard enough to make her own hand sting. "You heartless man! He is not _fat_! And yes, I do believe they hid the news of another child on the way. Not that I blame them," she says, eyeing her husband with unveiled disdain.

Even if Harry isn't currently expecting, she is quite sure the pair won't stop at just James and she's thrilled, mentally cheering at the very idea of more grandchildren. An entire house full of happy, laughing little babies running around, breaking ugly heirlooms and terrorizing their grumbling grandfather sounds utterly perfect. She's surprised to realize she can practically _see_ her future granddaughter, learning the finer points of proper tea in their sitting room. Oh yes, she wants that to become a reality and Merlin help her stubborn, foolish husband if he's responsible for ruining that.

"Find a way to get over yourself, dear. I _won't_ be left out of those babies' lives," she says in a low tone, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

Lucius just nods, staying quiet and merely watching as his wife lifts her chin and sniffs at him, leaving the room in a rustle of robes. He sighs inaudibly in the empty room, reluctantly seeing the wisdom of his wife's words. He doesn't wish to be left out either but he's having a difficult time accepting Draco's spouse, even after several years and the birth of a male heir. James is an... acceptable looking child —even with that plebeian name and the misfortune of inheriting Potter's atrocious genetics. He sighs again and settles himself with an aged Firewhiskey, his thoughts centered on how he can be... nice to Potter.

It nearly gives him indigestion to even consider it.


End file.
